


a dream of silent skies

by enpleurs



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, THERE IS ALSO NO PORN IN THIS I'M SORRY, self indulgent prose which is possibly worse than self indulgent porn, some vague nebulous ancient east asia au ig, still incredibly proud of myself for writing in concubine!ken, vixx's birth flower concept was made for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enpleurs/pseuds/enpleurs
Summary: Hakyeon was inexplicably waiting for him.Taekwoon stilled his steps far down the path, a small frown creasing his brow as he regarded the slight figure standing on the bridge, hands clasped lightly behind his back. He was dressed plainly in light blue, and as the wind rustled through the leaves, scattering a handful of petals to float along the river, it also tugged at Hakyeon's clothes, his hair feathering against the nape of his neck. It was the height of spring, a thin layer of clouds obscuring an otherwise blue sky, and it was a day that ought to have been remembered.(or where Hakyeon is the Fourth Prince and Taekwoon is his cousin and they're kind of Together. nothing really happens except taekwoon gets run through with a sword at one point ig)





	1. Part 1 （上）

Hakyeon was inexplicably waiting for him.

Taekwoon stilled his steps far down the path, a slight frown creasing his brow as he regarded the slight figure standing on the bridge, hands clasped lightly behind his back. He was dressed plainly in light blue, and as the wind rustled through the leaves, scattering a handful of petals to float along the river, it also tugged at Hakyeon's clothes, his hair feathering against the nape of his neck. It was the height of spring, a thin layer of clouds obscuring an otherwise blue sky. The garden was lush in green and blossom, a calm day, a pleasant day. A petal had caught in Hakyeon's hair. A splash of pale pink, just by his ear. Taekwoon stepped forward, steps soft against the stone path just as Hakyeon turned, fingers brushing against the shell of his ear. A smile, gentle, but eyes bursting with cheer. It nearly brought a smile to tug at Taekwoon's own cheeks, so infectious Hakyeon's smiles always were.

"Spring beckons summer rains, as the sparrow calls out noon," Hakyeon said, voice drifting down the path.

Taekwoon's fingers brushed against the sturdy stalks of bamboo, along the joins and the knots. _Summer questions autumn's frost, as noon surely follows dawn_. "Why are you here?" Taekwoon answered instead. It wasn't quite a proper response, the second part, anyway.

"So blunt," Hakyeon said. He laughed softly.

Taekwoon had no response to that, had no need to respond. He stepped up next to Hakyeon on the bridge, resting his hand on the railing by Hakyeon's. The other still wrapped lightly about his flute, tucked away in his sleeve as it were. Below the bridge, fish flashed in brilliant reds and oranges, ripples disturbing the veil of pale pink petals that floated across the surface. 

"I thought you would come this way, soon," Hakyeon said. He glanced at Taekwoon.

"Why?" Taekwoon asked.

"It would be good to walk with you," Hakyeon said, understanding which 'why' Taekwoon meant. Why had Hakyeon sought him out, why had he come to wait for Taekwoon, why had he come to wait for Taekwoon here.

Taekwoon nodded, once, and then stepped back, away from the railing. He paused, half a moment, as Hakyeon seemed to almost push himself off, began to walk in the direction that Taekwoon would have continued walking.

There was a pavilion, a small ways off. One of many in this palace garden. It was the one that Taekwoon preferred. That he had always preferred.

"You do not come as often as you used to," Hakyeon said. He spoke quietly, as if afraid to disturb the leaves, the flowers. They left behind the brook, climbed a few stone steps, continued along the path.

Hakyeon was right, as he tended to be. Taekwoon had come here much more often when he'd been younger. Hakyeon had done so, as well.

"You have time, tonight?" Hakyeon asked. 

Taekwoon's breath caught in his throat, and after the space where too many breaths ought to have gone, he nodded.

The question had been asked softly, asked as if it was a question of no import, and had anyone but the two of them been listening, that would indeed have been the case. It was tossed out with a slight gesture of a hand, the briefest of glances, the sense of an off-handed shrug. Hakyeon hummed an acknowledgement at Taekwoon's response. It was enough.

They made their way there, in time, Hakyeon half a step ahead even though this had been Taekwoon's destination. Taekwoon did not mind, for he took no note of it at all. It was a small pavilion, and Hakyeon made himself comfortable on the single bench there. The trees screened this place from the world, and Taekwoon, however briefly, could feel at peace. He ought to have been alone and he would have been, had Hakyeon not been waiting for him by the bridge. Yet, how had Hakyeon known that he would be here, today.

"It is a nice place," Hakyeon said. His words slipped beneath the breeze, through the trees. Unobtrusive.

"You've been coming often," Taekwoon said. It was a question in truth, and one that was answered with a small laugh, a little sheepish. He had not known, then, that Taekwoon would come this way today. 

"Will you play?" Hakyeon asked.

In answer, Taekwoon held the flute gently in his palms, its weight far greater than the simple stalk of bamboo it was carved from. Unadorned, bare, and familiar. He needed no prompting in truth. Hakyeon may have asked, but there had been only one reason why Taekwoon had come, and it was a reason that was as clear to Hakyeon as Taekwoon's name itself. The sweet sound of the flute filled the space, from the stone floor to the wooden beams, vibrating ever so slightly under Taekwoon's fingers. He played not for Hakyeon but towards the trees, allowing the notes to take on the chatter of birds, before sweeping into the slow slip of a placid stream. A pause, and Taekwoon was faintly aware of the rustle of paper behind him, and he knew that Hakyeon had, perhaps, formed a verse. A long pause, Taekwoon's fingers still, the flute resting feather light in his hands. This time, it was a song of longing—Taekwoon knew it to be such, as it had been a song he had breathed life into himself. The world seemed to have stilled. The leaves quiet, the wind gone, Hakyeon's presence a bare shadow of a breath.

There was the tale of two people who had loved each other so deeply, that their spirits had risen from the grave as butterflies, so as to be never again parted in death as they had been in life. It was a story that had captivated Taekwoon as a child, yet he had never managed to himself capture its essence, could only glean from it the most trifling of pieces. This was not such a song, such an attempt, but in many ways it had been wrought from the same bubbling spring.

A breath, a pause. His fingers quiet. A sweet song, this time, full of youthful trills and slips and glides. He liked it, this one, couldn't remember where he had heard it or who it was from, but it was bright, and suited spring flowers far more than the dull dearth of winter. 

Taekwoon stopped, after that. Brought his hands down, fingers wrapped tightly about the flute. The breeze from earlier had resumed its meandering path, the leaves again chattered in response. It filled the silence left behind by Taekwoon, even if the soft steps that stopped just behind Taekwoon had not. There was a quiet touch on his shoulder and Taekwoon fought not to stiffen.

But they were hidden here, and hidden well, and so Taekwoon let Hakyeon draw him into a soft kiss, his fingers light against Taekwoon's cheek. When they drew apart, Hakyeon's eyes were shining so bright they might as well have been glittering with stars.

"You have time, tonight," Hakyeon said again, less of a question this time. Again, Taekwoon nodded, the slightest of motions, as if brought by the breeze itself. A smile curled at Hakyeon's lips, and Taekwoon stifled the urge to crush Hakyeon to him then and there, to kiss him like they had when they had been still young, much younger than they were now. 

"Then I have things to attend to," Hakyeon said. Hakyeon had tucked away the small book he carried, and he laughed a little when he saw Taekwoon glance at it.

"Thank you," Hakyeon said, still with a small laugh. 

"Tonight," Taekwoon answered.

Hakyeon bowed slightly in acknowledgement—the gesture left Taekwoon feeling wrong-footed, but Hakyeon had turned to leave before Taekwoon could react.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hakyeon was alone, when he answered Taekwoon's soft knock.

"You came," he said, and the slight surprise there was in those words flickered against Taekwoon's skin. He nodded, the door already shut behind him.

_I always will, for you_. The words sat on the tip of his tongue, but Taekwoon let them sit, just nodded again, even though Hakyeon had not asked again.

Hakyeon drew him inside, fingers light about Taekwoon's wrist, electrifying in touch even through the fabric of Taekwoon's sleeve. The windows were closed, the light from the lamps a warm orange. The moon had been half full, tonight, but dull behind the veil of clouds. It would have cast no frost-like light by the foot of the bed.

They both knew why Hakyeon had asked him here, and Taekwoon, this time, easily drew Hakyeon into a kiss. Soft, sweet, no different than the one earlier in the day, witnessed by birds and the sun and hidden from human eyes by the trees. Hakyeon was not by any measure short, but like this, gathered in Taekwoon's arms and near pressed against his chest, he seemed almost small—almost fragile. And Taekwoon would give everything to protect that.

He kissed him again, and again, until it was Hakyeon who deepened the kiss, who furthered its urgency, whose fingers found their way to the nape of Taekwoon's neck and pulled him close, crushed their lips together in their fervency. When he pulled away, Taekwoon's eyes were almost wild, his cheeks flush, his lips parted and wet. Hakyeon's hand wrapped about Taekwoon's arm, tugging him forward until they were nearer the bed, and this time, Taekwoon needed no prompting to undoing the fasteners of Hakyeon's clothes, of sliding them off his shoulders until his chest was bare, and then until there was nothing separating Hakyeon from the world. For a moment, he let his fingers linger first against Hakyeon's thigh, before they trailed upwards to rest against the skin above Hakyeon's heart, feeling the pulse there. Hakyeon let out a soft laugh, cupped the side of Taekwoon's face with his hand.

"And you?" Hakyeon asked.

Taekwoon undressed himself much more quickly than he had undressed Hakyeon, and Hakyeon smiled with fondness as he did. Pink flooded Taekwoon's cheeks under Hakyeon's watch, and he huffed softly as this time he pulled Hakyeon onto the bed. 

It was deep into the night when Hakyeon pressed a kiss to the corner of Taekwoon's mouth before shifting so they lay side by side, his skin damp and sweat slick. Taekwoon's breathing had already quieted, and the rise and fall of his chest was steady and calm when Hakyeon rested his palm against it. Taekwoon covered Hakyeon's hand with his, warm. 

"I was thinking we could go on an excursion to the lake," Hakyeon said. 

"We?"

"Yes, we," Hakyeon said. His voice took on slight amusement, near playful, as he echoed Taekwoon's question. "The two of us."

Taekwoon frowned as he turned onto his side. Hakyeon still lay on his back, although he turned his head towards Taekwoon, smiling a little at Taekwoon's creased brows, the slight downturn of his lips.

"You are still a prince," Taekwoon said. 

"Fourth," Hakyeon reminded him. It did not seem so long ago that Hakyeon had not even been that.

"But—"

"My Lord father has named the oldest of us princes as heir," Hakyeon said. "It is quite safe for me."

Hakyeon paused, then, his expression growing serious to match Taekwoon's. "I can't say the same for him."

"If—"

"Let's not talk politics," Hakyeon said, cutting Taekwoon off. They both knew what Taekwoon had to say, but Taekwoon had felt the need to say it regardless, if Hakyeon would insist on such things. If an attack, from outside or otherwise, were to occur against the Emperor and the Crown Prince, it would stand to reason that the entire line of succession would be plucked and destroyed. If not outright killed, then sent into exile at the very least. Such things were oft foretold by the past.

But Hakyeon was right, that tonight was not the time for politics. 

"You truly wish to go to the lake?" Taekwoon asked.

"Mmhmm. For old times sake." A pause. "I don't know if I should tell you to go or to stay."

Hakyeon's words slammed into Taekwoon, unexpected, Taekwoon unsuspecting. They stiffened him, gripped at his chest, because it was a question that had been festering within Taekwoon for far too long. He couldn't quite meet Hakyeon's eyes, the swallow involuntary as he slumped back, to stare up at the ceiling and its prettily painted beams. For Taekwoon had no answer to Hakyeon's words.

"We can go," Taekwoon said instead. "To the lake."

"You're staying for my sake," Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon paused, thought of letting his hand slip the few fingers breadths to grip at Hakyeon's. He tangled them in the silk sheets instead. Allowed his eyes to fall shut.

"A question that hovers by the swift running dark river, the swallow darts about the fleeing moonlit sail, yet no answer can come until the dawn's sun, the step too hesitant to be taken."

Hakyeon laughed softly at Taekwoon's words, a quiet undercurrent in the room, to their breaths. "Now that I wish for you to speak plainly, you will not," Hakyeon said. "You've always been stubborn."

"No," Taekwoon said, for lack of anything else to say.

"You are meant to be a scholar, not a soldier," Hakyeon said. "If only you could see that."

"Tomorrow," Taekwoon said. 

"You would be brilliant leading your own command, it is a waste to wish for you to remain—and I don't doubt you want to go, as well."

If Taekwoon had hesitated, had interrupted himself, Hakyeon easily let his fingers brush against the inside of Taekwoon's wrist, slipping into his loosely formed fist.

"It took so little for you to agree to my excursion," Hakyeon said with a small laugh. "Tomorrow, then. I will hold you to it."

"That was low," Taekwoon muttered.

Hakyeon's cheeks pulled tight, and for a brief moment, although Taekwoon could not have known, his heart sank and sank until it could fall no deeper, until it choked him and clenched at his throat.

"It wasn't meant to be," Hakyeon said. He said this lightly, almost playfully—he wasn't sure if he'd managed. 

He had cause to wonder, for silence fell for many breaths, many heartbeats. The lamps lent the room a warm glow, and he knew that it was a light that would be visible from outside, beyond the windows. Taekwoon's breathing was quiet, and he lay so still as if he were asleep, yet Hakyeon knew that he was not asleep from the way he'd laced their fingers together, matched Hakyeon's grip with his own. It was with the strength of one not asleep, but with the strength of one who had too much holding him to the banks of the river, to be able to wholeheartedly sail forth. Taekwoon was still young—they both were still young—but he was of an age to make a name for himself, but it would not be made here, within the walls of this palace, under the shadow of his father. Taekwoon might not have studied the old masters of rhetoric and thought, but he had studied the stratagems of war and the history of battles no less thoroughly, and it would be wasted were he to remain. And yet he lingered for Hakyeon's sake, Hakyeon knew this as surely as he knew that spring would always follow winter.

"Whatever you decide, I'll be happy," Hakyeon said. His words slipped through the silence, parting it without shattering it. Taekwoon turned, finally, and there was a slight crease between his brows as he regarded Hakyeon. 

_I don't know what I will decide_ , Taekwoon wanted to say, but he could think of no way to say it, plainly or otherwise. He was no scholar. 

Instead, Taekwoon leaned over and kissed Hakyeon, gently, almost chaste, before he sat up. 

"You're going?" Hakyeon asked. Taekwoon nodded, running a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face. "Can't you stay?"

Taekwoon gave him a wry smile. "You are still a prince," he said. "What would your serving girls say if they saw me here in the morning?"

Hakyeon seemed to sigh as he too sat up. He looked as if he were to make a comment about the times when they were younger, when there were not such things to worry about, when there was no scrutiny about either of them whatsoever. No one to pay any mind to children on the cusp of adulthood. 

"Yes, well." Hakyeon grimaced, he too pushing his hair away from his face. He watched as Taekwoon dressed, quickly and efficiently much as he had undressed. Hakyeon stood, then, gestured Taekwoon to step closer so Hakyeon could smooth down Taekwoon's hair, combed his fingers through the strands until they resembled an image of decency.

Taekwoon let Hakyeon do so, and then with one last kiss, pushed his way out into the night, the door closing gently behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sun was brilliant, the sky clear, only a few clouds splashing white against the mirror surface of the lake. The reeds against the shore might have been the reflection itself, had winnows not disturbed the true reflection with minute ripples. The breeze was light, the day warm, and the soft notes from a bamboo flute flit across the open space, from one shore to the other. 

Hakyeon rested his head against Taekwoon's shoulder, despite Taekwoon's protests, and despite Hakyeon himself knowing how it hindered Taekwoon's playing. He sat up in time, brushing his finger against Taekwoon's earrings, silver and glinting in the sun. Taekwoon's playing came to an abrupt halt, an interrupted breath, and Taekwoon's expression was cross even as a smile played about Hakyeon's face.

"Go on," Hakyeon said.

"You're a nuisance," Taekwoon said.

"Ah, but a wanted nuisance," Hakyeon said, raising a finger in protest. Taekwoon wrinkled his nose and made to bite at it, and got a pat on the head in return. He exhaled deeply, let his flute fall to his lap. From somewhere behind them, one of their horses pawed at the ground, and a bird seemed to startle at the sound.

They had come here as children, fleeing lessons, the illicitness part of the glee as they ran through the trees, only to return when the sun had near set. There had been the night when it had been full dark and they had yet to return—Taekwoon had grabbed Hakyeon by the wrist and all but dragged him home, and unexpectedly, had taken the disciplining for them both when it was Taekwoon who usually worked the hardest to avoid punishment of any kind. Hakyeon had cried after, even if Taekwoon had not, although the welts had lasted for days, if not weeks. They had kept their furtive excursions closer to home, after that.

But it had been some time since they were children, and Hakyeon's fingers caught Taekwoon's chin as he drew him into a slow kiss, his hand resting lightly against Taekwoon's shoulder.

"Who says you're wanted," Taekwoon murmured, the words brushing against Hakyeon's lips.

"Mmm, you, no?" Hakyeon said, between soft touches of catching Taekwoon's lips between his. Taekwoon seemed to flare with disdain, but the only outward sign was the way his grip tightened on Hakyeon's shoulder. 

It had been so long since they'd last had such times together, the previous night, this tranquil afternoon—and yet it was tinged in the knowledge that such times were even more numbered than they had been. For it had been some time since they were children.

Hakyeon lay on the grass with Taekwoon's head resting against his chest, their hands lightly clasped between them. The world seemed to be in a strange stasis: the same clouds seemed to be painted against the surface of the lake, the same fish seemed to dance in the shallows, the same breeze seemed to brush gently through their hair, soft motions of their clothes. 

There were words to be said here, hovering in the space above them, between them. In this space sheltered by the trees, open to the lake-swept winds, bared to the sky above, the absence of the words lingered as heavy pebbles, not quite able to be carried away with even the strongest currents of air. But they were words that, by silent agreement, could wait in rest while Hakyeon's eyes shut and Taekwoon's eyes shut and it was the sound of Hakyeon's breathing in time with the slight motions of Taekwoon's head, pressed against Hakyeon's chest as he was. They were not asleep, although they were so still they resembled lovers in slumber, and had Taekwoon been lying not on Hakyeon's chest but on his sleeve, they might have been a painting of an old fabled tale.

It was an hour, perhaps, or more, before Taekwoon stirred. A small, gentle motion that had Hakyeon sitting up, Taekwoon following soon after. Hakyeon's robe was a pale green today, and it almost seemed to blend into their surroundings—no, it was almost as if Hakyeon belonged in such a place. His smile was gentle, it could have been said to be peaceful and charming, as if Hakyeon was a spirit born of the lakes and the forest, the embodiment of the kindness and mischief of the land all bundled into one. But he was not, for he was the Fourth Prince and Taekwoon's friend and cousin and the son of an Emperor whose younger brother was Taekwoon's father, and he was so very human in his presence.

"You're thinking too hard," Hakyeon said. His lips curled into a teasing smile. 

Taekwoon's tongue flickered out over his lips, but no words followed. His fingers brushed against the flute lying in the grass beside him. Hakyeon's eyes caught onto the motion, his gaze following Taekwoon's fingers.

"Don't," Taekwoon said. He'd known where Hakyeon's eyes had wandered to, and could sense that there had been words Hakyeon had been about to say. Taekwoon's own word was spoken softly, quietly, and towards the bed of grass that tucked away the flute. He knew what Hakyeon would say, for he had said it countless times and each time, Taekwoon had never been able to give a proper response, even if there had been none needed.

The day was too lovely to spoil with such things.

Instead: "read to me?" Taekwoon asked.

Hakyeon seemed to startle a little at that, sat up a little straighter, and Taekwoon pretended that this surprise of Hakyeon's drew no amusement from him. Even so, Hakyeon's face flashed utter disdain, before it formed into one with a rueful smile instead.

"I brought nothing to read," Hakyeon said.

"I know," Taekwoon said. He had to fight to keep the amusement out of his voice, even if he couldn't quite hide the playful quirk of his eyes. "But you have something, don't you."

"Now _you_ are a nuisance," Hakyeon muttered. Yet, he sighed and slipped out the small book he always carried with him. A smile flickered across Taekwoon's lips before being swallowed, as he again lay down, an arm resting against his eyes this time to further shield him from the sun.

"You are trying to embarrass me," Hakyeon said under his breath. "But oh well."

"Don't lie, you're proud of what you have," Taekwoon said.

"I'm proud of what's good," Hakyeon shot back. "But do you know how much isn't good?"

"I know," Taekwoon said, placid. "For old times sake."

"Insufferable," Hakyeon said. 

"You said it," Taekwoon said.

"Yes, but in quite a different sense—never mind, read to you, you said?"

"Mmm."

The rustle of pages, a pause, a sigh, the turn of a page.

"I'm waiting," Taekwoon said.

Hakyeon smacked Taekwoon on the head. "Shush." 

Taekwoon struck back at Hakyeon but it was lackluster and easily rebuffed, and Taekwoon simply let out a long exhale.

"Be patient," Hakyeon scolded. He flipped through another few pages before he sighed, and it sounded like he'd shut the book entirely. 

"N—"

"There is nothing that will do," Hakyeon said, cutting Taekwoon off. "But a story, perhaps? It's not quite reading."

_I just want to hear your voice_. "Alright." A little grumbled, a little reluctant. 

"Mmm, but which one?" Hakyeon mused. "One of your favourites? Ah, this is like choosing a bedtime story for a child, don't deny it Taekwoon, you don't find this familiar?"

"Nngh."

"Cute." Hakyeon laughed, patting Taekwoon on the head, ruffling his hair before yanking his hand back. He didn't want to give Taekwoon too large a window to attack. Still, Hakyeon's breath took on a slight sigh as he leaned back on his arms, staring out over the lake. Such a calm lake. A small one, shielded and undisturbed. They could all but see the opposite shore. Most of the way up a small mountain, there would be no fishing here, except by the occasional bird, a homing arrow that glanced across the water's surface and then was gone, leaving behind only ripples in the place of the fish caught in beak or claw. Perhaps it could house a lone dragon, a small one, who wished to be tucked away from the world as much as Taekwoon seemed to wish to be, at times. 

"The fog rolled early in the morning, the sparrows on the branches singing among flowers with fallen petals, the night's rain having cast them into oblivion. The lake was dark and by the shore, a young girl's tears added to the spring." Hakyeon paused, and Taekwoon brushed his fingers against Hakyeon's wrist. He could remember the story, but the words were harder to form—Hakyeon had never been quite as good at this as others.

"She stood as the sun rose, and walked about the edge of the lake. Her downcast eyes noticed a lovely round stone, smooth and grey and when her tears fell they sparkled against the surface. It was warm when she cradled it in her hands, and she brought it with her to the home that she would soon leave, for she had been betrothed.

The stone was hidden among her most treasured things, and she every night would hold it to her chest, for it seemed to grow warm and comfort her heart. Morning brought her closer to the day of her marriage, and night gave her scant comfort, but for that warm, smooth stone."

A small pebble skimmed along the lake before it sank into the depths, leaving behind only ripples. Hakyeon caught another in his hand and repeated the motion, his legs tucked partway to his chest, arms resting on his knees. When he glanced at Taekwoon, he was as still as a painting. Hakyeon spoke slowly, his words measured and chosen and spoken towards the lake. 

"So preciously she cradled it, the crack that grew one morning seemed impossible, but in front of her eyes it grew larger, and larger, until a beautiful white snake was curled in her palms, and the stone which had been an egg lay on her bed.

Her life would change in a month, but the white snake now rested in a pouch by her bosom during the day, and curled against her at night, and the comfort she had felt accompanied her as did the sun, moon, stars. The snake grew, faster than any snake should grow, and one day she felt the need to return to the lake, the snake wrapped about her neck as if a fine necklace.

No fog veiled the lake, no breeze disturbed the surface, the step she took was as if in a dream. Though she walked in the water, her clothes seemed not to grow wet, and only when the water rose to her waist did she stop. People's hearts know what their minds do not, in this world that was so far from her own. White scales flashed through undisturbed waters, and through the waters rose a dragon, eyes like jewels, scales like silver. There was no fear in the girl's heart for this was a dragon she had cradled to her heart, and—"

"He takes human form and carries her off to be his bride," Taekwoon murmured. His voice shattered some spell, an abrupt break of the flowing rhythm that Hakyeon had woven his tale through, the careful cadence of his slowly spoken words. It made Hakyeon laugh, even as it made him a little cross, for Taekwoon was of course right, but it was always the end of the tale that was meant to be the most beautiful, that was meant to match the beginning in phrase and rhythm, a couplet to itself. But he could not be upset at Taekwoon, and his throat was quite dry, besides, and Taekwoon's eyes on him were too soft and gentle for Hakyeon to be able to grow upset at.

"Am I telling this story or are you?" Hakyeon said. His tone was short and cross but there must have been too much fond amusement nonetheless for Taekwoon to take him seriously, for Taekwoon just smiled as he sat up.

"You," Taekwoon said, quite placid.

Hakyeon gave up the pretense and let a small laugh slip out. "Yes, me. Or I was, until you interrupted me," he said.

Taekwoon merely blinked at that, tucked his knees to his chest. He thought of leaning over, letting his shoulder rest against Hakyeon's, but he kept still, arms wrapped about his knees. It was quite improper for an adult of his status, but they were alone here, wonderfully so.

"Do you think there could be a dragon here?" Taekwoon asked. A flight of fancy, but if there was ever to be a time for such things, it felt like now.

"There are no such things as dragons," Hakyeon said. He quirked an eyebrow at Taekwoon, a smile playing about the corner of his lips.

"But if," Taekwoon said.

"I suppose it is impossible to say whether or not such tales are true," Hakyeon murmured. "Whether or not our prayers to the gods fall on deaf ears, whether such things as dragons can truly bring rain, or if it is futile to ask for protection."

"They are," Taekwoon said bluntly.

"So honest," Hakyeon said with a soft laugh. "But it is better to believe so, isn't it."

A pause, and then:

"So you will leave."

As much as the words were abrupt, they were not, this time, unexpected. They only brought a breath barely deeper than any other, perhaps a slight slump of shoulders, eyes falling shut. Taekwoon mulled over an answer, but there was no answer he could give to something that was not a question. 

But his silence was answer enough, as it always was when it was the two of them, and only the two of them. A hand rested on Taekwoon's knee, and that too was answer enough.

The world remained as if a dream, a master's painting of a fair day, an enchanted day. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, the lake still mirror like. Perhaps there could have been a cormorant, or a stork by the shore with its orange bill dipping just past the water's surface. A turtle resting on one of the rocks which lay in the shallows, warming itself in the day's light. But there were only a smattering of birds in the trees behind them, and the occasional shuffle of their horse's hooves. 

" _When will come again the time when we trim the candles by the western window, while speaking of the old mountains as the night rain falls_ ," Hakyeon said softly.

"I have not left yet," Taekwoon said, part cross, part amused. Hakyeon laughed at that, a small, clear laugh. 

"No," Hakyeon said, "but you will, and I am glad. I will be lonely, I suppose."

"You, lonely?" Taekwoon's words were no doubt amused this time, and he glanced at Hakyeon before returning his gaze to the hidden shore beyond the lake's edge. 

"Well." Hakyeon huffed. "I am not like you and can admit that you are special, and no other companion will quite fill your space when you are gone."

Had Taekwoon been unlike what Hakyeon had said, Taekwoon might've spoken the words that flitted through his mind. The sweet sound of the flute sang a counterpoint to a solitary bird's song, Taekwoon's fingers saying what his words would not. 

How familiar an image, this, they both thought, would both think. It was not that Taekwoon had never gotten along with the other palace children, but as Hakyeon had said of Taekwoon, Hakyeon too had always been special to Taekwoon. For who else would sit with Taekwoon at night, or drag him to play when Taekwoon did not know how to ask, or keep him company when Taekwoon wished for silence—although so rarely had Hakyeon granted him that silence. But it had also been Hakyeon who would listen in silence as Taekwoon first fumbled with the fingerings, as his child's hands had yet to grow into the long, slender fingers that now so suited such music. Just as it had been Taekwoon who had read Hakyeon's clumsy verses, childish and trite. And then there were the hours and bruises they'd shared, sparring with stave and blade, for play and for a future that Taekwoon was sure to inherit.

And which he would now inherit. 

In time, the music faded away and the soft lapping of waves against the shore followed, as the first wisps of a late afternoon breeze which would herald early evening drew across the lake's wide surface.

"I want to protect you."

The words were so soft, so hesitant, so much quieter than Taekwoon's already quiet tone that they were nearly swallowed by the whisperings of the grass. So substance less were they that they were as if smoke of a single stick of incense, gone in half a breath, melted into air. Yet such a moment was enough time for Hakyeon to breathe them in and capture them in his heart, to let them sink into his bones and blood, to become a part of him so deep that they would never be torn away.

He thought, perhaps, to say _I know_ , but such an answer seemed too trite, too overstated, too loud for such a place. For what use was saying something that Taekwoon no doubt knew, except for Hakyeon's own peace of mind.

"We should go back," Hakyeon said. The sun would begin to set soon, and night would fall.

"We're no longer children, Hakyeon," Taekwoon said. A quick smile. "We don't need to return by nightfall."

"Yes, but..." Hakyeon laughed. "You are right. It's habit, I suppose. Ever since—"

"Hakyeon." A pause, when Hakyeon did not interrupt Taekwoon's interruption. "I will be back."

"Even this, is for my sake, isn't it," Hakyeon said. This did cause Taekwoon's shoulders to stiffen, to rise almost defensively. "Because you think there is nothing for you to do here, that you will be able to do more for my sake by the borders, whether it is to defend the walls from the barbarians or to continue growing our kingdom...You are so very easy to read, Taekwoon."

"I..." Taekwoon began to speak, the single word slipping out before his thoughts could follow, but follow they did and grasp the remainder of his words they did. What they replaced it by was instead a sigh, high and feathering, light and long. 

Early evening had chased after late afternoon in earnest, and now the breeze was cool and enough to pluck at their clothes. The sun would soon set, and cast its golden glow across the lake until it sank beneath its surface, the single one that remained of seven.

There was no music now to disturb the silence, just as the birds seemed too to have quieted in preparation for an evening's rest. The water of the lake, the breathing of the two men—still barely men.

The sun did set, for that was what the sun did, for such things were unfailing in this world. And surely as the sun set did darkness follow, and as the day had been a clear one, so too did the sky become a canopy of stars, unburdened by the light of any moon.

"We should go back," Hakyeon said again, and this time Taekwoon did nod. It was several moments before he stood, before he held out a hand for Hakyeon to take. He clasped it tightly, warm and firm, and it was again several moments before Hakyeon too stood. 

"It would be nice," Taekwoon said, as they turned their backs to the lake, "to do this again." A step, and then another. " _The sun which sets is lovely, yet it is always dusk that follows._ But, Hakyeon, just as surely does the sun rise and the dawn come."

"Yes," Hakyeon said. "I suppose you are right."

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was the dawning of a glorious day, for it was the day which they were to celebrate the birth of the Crown Prince. For nearly a full cycle of the moon had preparations been made for this day, and there was not one among them who did not look towards the festivities, the performances, and most crucially, the food. The last, Taekwoon was eager for the most, especially as he knew that despite what he had said to Hakyeon, it would be at least a year before he returned. Perhaps more, as he had no family, no wife or daughters to bear responsibility to, and had only the responsibility he bore towards his kingdom. The dances, the music—that he looked forward to as well, and he knew Hakyeon did, too. 

Hakyeon had been away all day, involved in the ceremony. There were the four princes born to the Lady Empress, and the two younger princesses who had yet to marry. The young son of the favoured concubine, as well as the two older girls. The remainder of the Emperor's sons held positions far from the palace, prominent and lucrative, as was fitting for sons of the Emperor.

As for Taekwoon, it could be said that he too had the blood of the dragon within him, but such designs would not only be treason, they would also go against every string of his heart.

The morning was a bright one, but a thin veil of clouds dimmed the sun as afternoon followed morn, softening the harshness of blinding rays. Taekwoon spent much of the day outside of the palace walls in a quiet clearing he knew of, blade in his hand. There were many people in the palace, today. Taekwoon had never been good with so many people.

He briefly met Hakyeon's eye as he went to pay his respects to the Crown Prince, even as he saw him as often as he did. Formalities, it was all formalities, and it was one thing that Taekwoon would be glad to be rid of. That, and all the old men with their pondering advice, with their politics and fawning for the Emperor's favour, although he knew that both would follow no matter where in the kingdom he went. Such was the manner of men, as long as there was power and money to strive for.

There was the barest flicker of a smile in that moment's shared gaze, and a flutter of something passed through Taekwoon's heart, a sliver of warmth. Taekwoon was glad for his lowered head, as he was sure something had shown on his face, even though he himself could not have known what it was. 

He left quickly after that, retiring to his rooms. It would be a long night.

Taekwoon could not have known how long.

Later, it could have been said to be portentous, the way the clouds obscured the moon and the stars, but it is the manner of men to declare omens long after the event itself has passed. The night was lit bright with lanterns, and so the heavens brought no loss of light, no unforeseen darkness, and none would have noted the omens, if omens they were.

There were four things he would remember of that night, before the night had truly begun. The first would be the moon veiled in grey, as if watered ink had been splattered across its surface, as if it was making a cursory attempt to break through the clouds. The second, the lone call of a monkey from the mountains beyond as if from a dream, hidden beneath good natured conversation at volumes too loud, with words too raucous, of men well plied by food and wine. The third, two children out long past bedtime sneaking through the shadows—Taekwoon met their eyes and bit back a smile as they startled, but only shook his head and placed a finger against his lips.

And the fourth would be Hakyeon's smile—a little tired and wan but so clear and carefree. He was laughing at something the Second Prince had just said, clapped his hands together in glee. His eyes were lightly crinkled at the corners, and when he noticed Taekwoon's gaze, those lines seemed to soften, his laugh smoothing into something quieter. A mischievous spark in the faint tilt of his head, the widening of his smile, and then Hakyeon's attention had shifted back entirely, and Taekwoon turned back to playing with his cup of wine.

It is in man's very nature to shape the memories which they carry forth. And so it was that Taekwoon would stretch that brief glance into an eternity and etch it into his heart. The smile would be not only the one which he had shown Taekwoon, but would be a blend from ages past. His eyes would shine unburdened, the sense of which would be an arrow through his chest, even as he would not be able to recall exactly how such a sense had appeared. He would not recall the simple joy that Hakyeon had laughed with, surrounded by his closest blood, no matter how hard he would wish to after, for that was not a piece of the present that he would save for the future. It had not seemed so very important at the time.

Later, men would tell the tale as having begun and ended with a great battle fought first by the Emperor, and then by the Prince. The would tell the tale as if the fires had raged about them as they fought, as if the combat had been raised on the dais for all to see. The tale would be told as if it had not begun with two clean cuts of a knife, as if it had not ended before it had even begun.

For Taekwoon, the first thing that he noticed was that Hakyeon was not there. Confusion cost lives, and he stood rooted in horror as he watched half the royal family cut down before the guards—the loyal ones who had not already been killed—could react. People surged in waves about him, fleeing, fighting. Blood spilled about his feet, and it was instinct that had him whirling out of the stab of a spear, gripping the wrist, throwing the man over his shoulder and slamming him onto the floor even as he looked wildly about him for Hakyeon. The Emperor—the Emperor was dead. Taekwoon had seen him fall with his own eyes. _"I am quite safe,"_ Taekwoon seemed to hear.

Hakyeon must have returned to his quarters. He had been unwell the previous day, Taekwoon recalled, even as he tried to fight his way forward. It was the futile fight of a fish up the river, but a poor servant of the country he would be were he not to try. How well planned this all was—a clean coup, when all the royal family would be gathered as would all the highest ranking ministers. Such thoughts passed detached through his mind, his body moving in almost unconscious thought. Hakyeon must have returned to his quarters, and this would be a chapter of history, and he knew without hesitation what the sudden cry of " _there is one more_ " meant, but Taekwoon had already begun to fight free of the crowd, of guards, of traitors.

Blood streamed down his arm. An observation. A group of men dashing across the courtyard.

Taekwoon did not follow them. 

As children, they had quickly learned the fastest paths through the palace, racing against each other, or fleeing responsibilities as children did. Generations of children had done such things, and Taekwoon was not so far away from childhood to have forgotten. Never before had the stakes been so high as he raced through the darkness. His leg ached. Chaos quieted, left behind. Cries of confusion.

"Taekwoon?"

Hakyeon, standing there, face cast in the flickering light of a lantern as he stopped, steps from his chambers. 

There would be only one thing that Hakyeon would remember from that night.

It would not be Taekwoon's face, the brief flicker of thankfulness that Hakyeon did not understand, cheeks flushed even in the half-dark. It would not be the pounding sound of footsteps advancing on them, and it would not be Taekwoon charging recklessly forward, unarmed as he was. He would not recall the way that Taekwoon fought, in the manner of a wounded tigress protecting its cubs, nor would he recall how many men Taekwoon felled that night.

Later, men would end the tale with the Fourth Prince raising his sword, red with blood, having avenged his father. The tale would end with him surrounded by flame, as if a phoenix rising into immortality, the birth of a new Emperor.

Perhaps that was how it had gone. Hakyeon could not recall.

For the only thing that Hakyeon would remember from that night was the image of Taekwoon's back, a sword pierced through his body. As if from a dream, Hakyeon would see Taekwoon catch the blade between his palms to pull it out of himself, and cut down the last assailant even as blood flowed unstaunched from the wound, from his hands. He would see the way Taekwoon grit his teeth, even as he could not have, standing behind Taekwoon as he had been, for Taekwoon had thrown himself in front of the blade meant for Hakyeon, meant for Hakyeon who had stood frozen as if struck to stone. The only thing that Hakyeon would remember was Taekwoon facing Hakyeon, a half smile on his face as if to say _I am glad you are safe_ , even as his voice said: "my Lord." He would not remember the way those words had pierced through his heart in a flicker of understanding, for he would only remember Taekwoon slumping against him, his quiet words brushing against his cheek.

And the last thing he would remember was his own wretched scream as he clutched at Taekwoon's limp body, Taekwoon's blood spilling hot over them both.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When will come again the time when we trim the candles by the western window, while speaking of the old mountains as the night rain falls_ \- Li Shangyin 'Sent North on a Rainy Night'   
>  _The sun which sets is lovely, yet it is always dusk that follows._ \- also quoted, but I forget which poem...


	2. Part 2（中）

Spring dreams scatter like clouds, fallen petals follow water's flow. Sunlight breaks over the mountain, rivers flow unseen into a lake. In the distance, a turtle warms itself on a sun-baked stone. The wind rustles through trees, birds taking flight with sweet cries.

The world stands unchanging, even through the largest changes in a man's life.

Hakyeon burst through the doors, his heart pounding, scarce daring to believe this was true. How indecorous it must have been, the way he had sprung to his feet when he had been told the news, but that was something that a Hakyeon in the future would think about—and something that a Hakyeon in the future would not regret. The Hakyeon in the present had his thoughts in a blur, his mind blank with anything but prayer.

A prayer that had been answered.

It was but a flash of a moment in reality, an eternity of a moment in the present—the soft rays of the sun fell on the floor by the bed, but it was the rays of the sun pushing through days and days of cloud that drew Hakyeon forward.

"You have returned to us, you have returned to us truly?" Hakyeon had flown across the room, knelt by the bed, clutched at Taekwoon's hand and yes, _yes_ , even before Taekwoon spoke, Hakyeon could see the clarity in Taekwoon's eyes.

"I…" and yes, _yes_ , it was Taekwoon's voice clear of fever, hoarse and weak as it was.

"You are here, you're here, thank the heavens, thank the gods, oh Taekwoon, _Taekwoon_ , you've returned to us," Hakyeon cried, and he could not sweep Taekwoon into an embrace, his grip at Taekwoon's hand grew only tighter, tears quickly wetting Taekwoon's arm.

It would be that the first words Hakyeon would hear Taekwoon speak, after days of Taekwoon first lying still in death, days of Taekwoon wracked unconscious in pain, days of Taekwoon taken in a fever, delirious, with no guarantee he would live—it would be that they were the words that both Hakyeon and Taekwoon had once thought would be the last words Hakyeon would hear.

"My Lord," Taekwoon said, and his eyes too glistened with tears. His voice was soft, so soft, and Hakyeon could only shake his head at them, swallowed, unable to speak. He sank down until it was only the weight he leant against the bed that held him upright, as he reached towards Taekwoon's face, as if in a dream, but when his fingers brushed against Taekwoon's cheek he was no ghost nor spirit, and the warmth was that of any human's warmth.

How many nights had it been where Hakyeon had done the same, as he'd tried to cool the burning of Taekwoon's skin. How many days where Hakyeon had slipped away at any moment he could spare, to sit by Taekwoon's side, even when more responsibilities than a single man could bear had fallen on his shoulders. But the fever had finally broken, and Taekwoon was awake, and Taekwoon's voice was sweeter to Hakyeon than the juice of any immortal peach could ever be.

"You don't need to call me that," Hakyeon said, finally. "Don't call me that, you are alive, you will live, you've returned to us." 

But: "my Lord," Taekwoon said again, and Hakyeon swallowed, cupped Taekwoon's face in his hand. 

"You are alive," Hakyeon said again. "You've returned to us."

"I'm alive," Taekwoon repeated, and it was a question and a reassurance all at the same time, and Hakyeon nodded, and he nodded again. _I should not be alive_ , were the unspoken words, but there would be time for that, for Taekwoon would live, after all.

"Are you thirsty? Are you hungry?" Hakyeon asked—and oh, how good it felt to be able to ask such things, to ask if Taekwoon needed such things as one needed to live.

But Taekwoon only shook his head. "I'm tired," he said, instead.

"Of course," Hakyeon said. He bit at his lip as he nodded again. "Sleep, Taekwoon. If you're tired, then sleep."

"I'm alive, this is real, you're real?" Taekwoon's eyes were already half closed, and Hakyeon could not know whether he could see how fervently Hakyeon was nodding, and did not think to wonder if Taekwoon knew from the way Hakyeon gripped at his hand even tighter.

"Yes, yes," Hakyeon murmured. Taekwoon's eyes had closed again, but Hakyeon could see the gentle rise and fall of Taekwoon's chest, the slight part of Taekwoon's lips, and the words "stay?" which slipped through them.

"Yes," Hakyeon said. "I'll stay."

It was almost immediate, Taekwoon falling back into slumber, but it was a peaceful one, even as his clothes must have still been sweat soaked. Throughout this, there had been a third person nearby, but his presence had faded into nothingness as Hakyeon had knelt by Taekwoon's side. Now, however, Hakyeon grew slowly aware of this third person, and in time, drew away from Taekwoon as he stood, although his hand still lingered by Taekwoon's.

"Thank you," Hakyeon said, although he had yet to turn. He himself knew that his face must have been a mess, for how hard he had cried. And yet, the man behind him had seen him at far worse, and this time, it was with a smile that Hakyeon could turn to face him.

"Thank you," Hakyeon said again. "If it is within my power, ask and you will be rewarded. I owe you more than you could ever know."

It was a young man that he spoke to, but not much younger than Hakyeon and Taekwoon themselves. Nor was he much smaller, although his figure was slight. His features were striking, but that had no bearing on his current presence in this room. He was dressed, at the moment, simply—for it had been he who had tended to Taekwoon these few harrowing weeks, and it was he who had undoubtedly saved Taekwoon's life. 

At Hakyeon's words, however, the young man seemed to shift in slight discomfort before he bowed his head in deference.

"To serve the Emperor is a great honour in itself, and more than I could ask for," he said, stiff and with great decorum.

Hakyeon laughed softly, shook his head, rubbed at his tear-stained face. "At least you can now return to your master, we've kept you from him for long enough."

A small puff of laughter not quite hidden as the young man straightened. "He can keep himself entertained for another few days," he said. 

"No, I can tend—"

"You? No, you don't know what signs to watch for and besides, you're the—" _Emperor_ , he'd clearly been about to say, and it was only then that his words seemed to have caught up to him and a fear flashed visibly across his features.

"It's alright," Hakyeon quickly assured him before he could begin a round of apologies. "I haven't been one for very long. But you're right that I don't know what signs to watch for—but may I stay with him for now, so you may rest?"

It took Hakyeon several moments—several moments where the young man's brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his Emperor—before he remembered that as Emperor, he should not be asking for such things, but should command. And yet, Hakyeon sighed a little, offering him a wry smile.

"Go," Hakyeon said, and this time, he did bow and leave the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was deep night when Taekwoon again woke. Hakyeon had fallen asleep, slumped against the bed, fingers still circled about Taekwoon's wrist. At Taekwoon's first movement, Hakyeon immediately stirred.

For a brief moment, clouded by sleep, Hakyeon could not help but feel as if it were in a dream that he held Taekwoon's eyes with his gaze. Could not help but feel as if this were still unreal. The only light in the room was from that of the moon, and how fitting the image was, Taekwoon bathed in cool silver.

This time, the first words that Taekwoon said were: "you're safe."

"Because of you," Hakyeon said. His own voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. He again cupped Taekwoon's face in his hand before he drew away.

"I'm sorry I couldn't…" Taekwoon trailed off, his gaze falling away from Hakyeon. This drew a small, choked laugh from Hakyeon. "I should have, but…"

"If you had stayed there, perhaps neither of us would still be alive," Hakyeon said softly, and Taekwoon knew that it was true. Yet it was also true that Hakyeon had lost his entire family in one sweep, and Taekwoon had left that fight to seek out Hakyeon, instead. 

"My Lord," Taekwoon said, and his voice had dropped to something even quieter than a whisper. His voice had never been loud, but whether it was weakness or hesitation, it drew it even softer. 

"Hakyeon," Hakyeon said. "I'm still Hakyeon."

"And my lord Emperor," Taekwoon said. For a moment, his lips seemed to tighten, but it was hard to say in the dark. "What happened?"

Hakyeon, involuntary, drew a deep breath, and exhaled heavily. His eyes shut. "Let's not speak of this now," he said. "It can wait."

"Don't sit on the floor," Taekwoon said, and here it was, without none of his newfound deference. And then: "I want to know."

Hakyeon laughed softly but he stood, his body stiff, joints aching. He sat on the bed, his hand still resting on Taekwoon's.

"You should rest," Hakyeon said. "It can wait until—"

"I've rested," Taekwoon said. And then, much softer: "please, tell me."

Even though Hakyeon could not see Taekwoon's face clearly, he could imagine the stubborn set to Taekwoon's eyes, the way his mouth would have tightened in resolution. He knew that Taekwoon would chase this to the end, rather than give in and rest as Hakyeon wished he would do. And so, Hakyeon sighed.

"What happened after I…" Words could only carry one so far, and one could only go so far without words. But here, any number of words could have followed the ones that Taekwoon spoke, none of which could quite capture the gravity of what had happened, and all of which would convey the event of which Taekwoon spoke of. 

"I thought you had…" Hakyeon began, but he could no more speak further than Taekwoon could, and Taekwoon shook his head regardless.

"Not that," he said. Not about me.

"Truthfully, it all happened so fast, I don't remember much," Hakyeon said. "The traitors were subdued long before I got there. All I did was survive."

"Who?"

"Don't rush me," Hakyeon chided, but it was with the sort of soft fondness one might use with a child. "The Second Consort. She...wished for power, I suppose. She intended to be regent to her son, and had won over several of the ministers." Hakyeon paused. A shadow was cast over his next words, the meaning plain through words that did not hold the meaning in them. "They've been dealt with."

Taekwoon would have sat up in alarm had he had the strength, but could only grip at Hakyeon instead. "The boy? But he's barely seven!"

"I didn't have him killed," Hakyeon said softly. A pang of something Hakyeon could not name clutched at his chest. "Did you really think I would?"

A soft shake of the head, the soft release of a hand.

"The others were," Taekwoon said, and it was not so much a question as much as a confirmation, and Hakyeon reeled a little with the force with which those words were spoken, weak as Taekwoon was. He could only nod, and even in the dark, could see a small smile form on Taekwoon's lips—relief or satisfaction, Hakyeon could not know, nor did he want to know.

"It is difficult to rule," Hakyeon admitted. "I did not realise how much. Especially as so much of the court was either killed or executed. Not an auspicious start."

If the blunt reality of Hakyeon's words did not surprise Hakyeon, the same could not have been said for Taekwoon. Hakyeon was kind—of the two of them, it had always been Taekwoon who had been more callous of death, who had accepted it as a reality of life. Hakyeon had shied away from death in all its forms. It gave Taekwoon reason to pause, still and unmoving as he was. And yet, the two of them had not spent together their entire lives for naught, and even in this, Hakyeon could tell.

A few weeks ago, they would have surprised Hakyeon as well. But now, all he could do was offer himself a wry smile, and a brief reprieve from holding up the dam behind which weariness had flooded.

"What happened to the boy?" Taekwoon asked. A soft question, to ease them through this silence. There had always been times when Taekwoon was strangely perceptive.

"I had him sent to a temple. They'll take care of him, and they don't know his parentage. They've been told he's an orphan whose remaining relatives are unable to care of him."

"He is," Taekwoon said. And then: "I liked him."

"Yes," Hakyeon said softly.

He was loathe to leave Taekwoon's side for any reason, but nonetheless, he stood. He could feel Taekwoon's eyes on him, and for a brief moment, he wondered if Taekwoon felt the same way. It was but a brief moment, because that was all the time it took before he returned with a cup of water.

"At least drink if you will not eat," Hakyeon said. A slight nod, but oh how it broke Hakyeon's heart to see the pain on Taekwoon's face as he tried to sit up before Hakyeon had quite managed to reach him, but even more than that was how Taekwoon was unable to, and the frustration which was plain even under the hurt. But then Hakyeon was there, holding him up just enough for Taekwoon to sip at the water, to slowly drain the cup.

Nothing could hide the pain which flashed across Taekwoon's face as he lay back down, as much as Taekwoon tried to hide it. It was all Hakyeon could do to not comment on it, to not reassure him that it would pass, that he would regain his strength in time, because that would be an acknowledgement of the agony of Taekwoon in this moment. Hakyeon cared for Taekwoon far too much to do that to him.

It was long moments of silence which followed. The moon had dimmed behind a cloud, and the room was growing truly dark, Taekwoon's face mere shadows. His eyes seemed to have closed, and Hakyeon wondered if Taekwoon had again fallen asleep. His breaths came shallow, and Hakyeon brushed hair away from Taekwoon's face, perhaps in comfort.

His eyes opened, then, and Hakyeon drew away, brushed against Taekwoon's open hand instead.

"How long has it been?" Taekwoon murmured. As if in explanation, he held up his hand—scarred but unbandaged. Long enough for it to have healed, raw and red as the wound still was.

"Two, no, almost three weeks," Hakyeon said, and there was a clear flash of surprise on Taekwoon's face. Hakyeon smiled softly at that. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't returned to us."

"You would have lived," Taekwoon said without hesitation. He was growing tired now, truly, and Hakyeon was not surprised. He remembered Taekwoon taking ill as a child, as a youth, and afterwards, for a day at the least, he would spend only snatches of minutes awake before he drifted into sleep again. This was not so very different—except it had been a much more harrowing illness, and it would be a much longer recovery. 

"My father?" Taekwoon asked. A small twinge of guilt accompanied that, as if Taekwoon meant to say he should have asked after him much sooner. But it could not be blamed if Taekwoon had first asked after what amounted to matters of the country. Matters of Hakyeon.

"He's been a great help," Hakyeon said, and immediately, there was a slight slump of relief. That he lived, that he had not been involved in the plot. The latter would have destroyed Taekwoon, the former would have shattered his heart. "It is difficult to know who to trust," Hakyeon added, softly.

"Me," Taekwoon said immediately, and just as immediately, seemed taken aback by his own abrupt word.

"Yes," Hakyeon said softly. "I know."

His knuckles brushed across the raised scar on Taekwoon's palm, even as he could barely see Taekwoon's face.

"Rest now," Hakyeon said.

This time, what Taekwoon said was: "don't stay."

"You don't want me here?" Hakyeon said. 

"The country is more important," Taekwoon said, words slurred and half mired already in sleep. "More important than me."

Hakyeon wished to deny it, and in his heart, there was some small piece that still did—but what Taekwoon had said was true.

Once, it would have been true of them both, but Hakyeon no longer had the luxury to pretend otherwise. It was the burden that accompanied power—to shrug off that burden spelled only disaster, and Hakyeon had no wish to do so, and Taekwoon would never let him do so. It is often that when great changes occur in but minutes, it is weeks or months or years before the extent of those changes become truly clear. And so it was that it was only now, days and days into Hakyeon's rule, did he understand just how different it would be from now on. Hakyeon had gained the throne at the cost of his family—that was indisputable. It left a hollow greater than any in his heart, but there had been no time to truly mourn them beyond the mourning rites, for there was a court in turmoil to preside over, young and inexperienced as he was. But so concerned had he been for Taekwoon—and it must have been heaven's intervention that had given him any chance of life at all, even when Hakyeon had already given Taekwoon as lost—he had not realised that the throne, in many ways, had cost him Taekwoon as well.

_My Lord Emperor_ , Taekwoon had called him, even when Hakyeon had asked him not to. And had he not been the first to speak to Hakyeon the words, _my Lord_? They would never again have the easy companionship they had once shared—it was not so long ago, that 'once'. And to think that Hakyeon had once foolishly thought that they might have been able to have more, for in line to the throne as he had been, his responsibilities had still seemed so few.

He looked down at Taekwoon, at his face hidden in the shadows of night. He was truly asleep now, quiet and at peace. When he woke, Hakyeon knew that Taekwoon would have only drawn away further, and he would do so for Hakyeon's sake, for the country's sake. Or perhaps it would be Hakyeon who drew away—he did not know which would hurt most, but if it would be easier for Taekwoon, it was what he would do. But that was a thing that would wait for the days ahead, after Taekwoon was again well, after this night had ended.

_Don't stay_ , Taekwoon had said, and what impudence he had, ordering an Emperor around like that. And yet, Hakyeon, just this once, would obey. Taekwoon seemed to stir slightly as Hakyeon stood, and then again as Hakyeon leaned down to press a kiss against Taekwoon's forehead. 

_My love_ , Hakyeon thought, but they were not words that he would ever dare to say aloud.  


 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Spring dreams scatter like clouds, fallen petals follow water's flow._ \- from Dreams of a Red Chamber (sort of.)


	3. Part 3（下）

The sun could not quite be said to be shining, half hidden by clouds as it were.

It had been two days ago that Taekwoon had truly woke, and he felt well enough to sit up today, ignoring the doctor's protests.

"You are a fool," Jaehwan had flatly informed him, even more so when Taekwoon had refused the tea which would ease his pain—because it kept putting him to sleep. "You need sleep, and rest—what are you even going to do, sitting up? If you tear the wound you can explain it to the Emperor."

Taekwoon had merely stared at him and waited for him to quiet and walk away, huffy.

Hakyeon had been by less now that Taekwoon was awake, than he had been when Taekwoon had yet to truly return to the land of the living, for now Taekwoon could forbid him from coming so often. It was Jaehwan who had told him this, how often Hakyeon had sat by Taekwoon's side, how often the Emperor himself had insisted on helping Jaehwan to tend to Taekwoon in any and every way possible.

For Jaehwan had been that third presence in the room, the day that Taekwoon had first awoken. It had been he who had remained by Taekwoon when Hakyeon had been unable to, and it had been he who had been the only one present when Taekwoon had woken for that third time.

For Jaehwan had been the one who had left his quarters, drawn by the commotion, only to find Hakyeon and Taekwoon surrounded by at least ten dead men, and to see that despite the blood, Taekwoon was still breathing.

That night, it could have only been heaven's intervention that had saved Taekwoon's life. Perhaps the gods had seen his willingness to lay down his life as reason to give him a chance at another, but whatever it was that had driven heaven's hand, Jaehwan had rushed forward and crouched down by a sobbing Hakyeon. 

"He's still alive!" Jaehwan had all but yelled, and his mind was racing as he nearly had to pry Taekwoon's still body from Hakyeon's grasp, before Hakyeon came to his senses and carried Taekwoon himself. Even now, Jaehwan did not know what it was that had given him the will or courage to have done what he did, because even as he shoved a list of medicines in one girl's hands and sent Hakyeon to his chambers, there was no guarantee that this man in front of him would live. It was the bleeding they had to stop first—that was one of the quickest ways a man could die. Jaehwan had never seen it, had only ever read it. So much of what he had done that night was from things he had only ever read. 

He had not known then that the man he had yelled at to fetch the box from his room was the man who was to be Emperor—but looking back, even if he had, he might have done the same thing. For it was truly as if Jaehwan had only been a tool of heaven's intervention, had been acting with something beyond his own will.

People had come for Hakyeon not long after that, although it would be hours after Jaehwan learned that it was the former Fourth Prince and his cousin that he had come upon, before Jaehwan would begin to grasp the true magnitude of what he had done, and it was not only because there had been a patient to tend to.

Though it had been scant weeks ago, it already felt like a lifetime past. It was, in a way, a new era—the beginning of a new emperor's reign, the second in not so many years. Jaehwan had tried to defer Taekwoon's care to a doctor far more qualified than he, but Hakyeon had asked Jaehwan to stay—and what could one do but obey in the presence of one's emperor?

But Taekwoon was most certainly _not_ Jaehwan's emperor, and Jaehwan could yell at him all he wanted for being far more trouble awake than he had been delirious or unconscious. Although it was like yelling at a brick wall for all the good it did. Perhaps Taekwoon would be more willing to listen to the Emperor—Jaehwan made a mental note to himself to ask.

It was true that it hurt, but bearably so. And although Taekwoon had always liked to sleep, there was only so much time one could spend lying down before it grated. He'd thought to ask for a book, but he was sure that Jaehwan would not only refuse, he would also provide yet another litany for why Taekwoon was an addled fool and the worst patient one could ever have. His reasons were starting to repeat, and Taekwoon was tired of listening to them. But for all that Jaehwan complained, he was endlessly patient tending to Taekwoon, even through things that Taekwoon was himself embarrassed of. He'd been even more embarrassed to learn how often Hakyeon had tended to him as well, when Taekwoon had yet to truly wake. _He cares for you, the Emperor,_ Jaehwan had said, a few words slipped within a long conversation with himself. _Anyone would envy such love._ Taekwoon had said nothing to that, could only flush and swallow, and Jaehwan himself did not seem to have truly registered his own words. Trees pay no mind to the petals it scatters, nor do rivers notice the petals it carries, but the boy by the stream who catches the pale pink petals in his hands will note every one.

He had been surprised when he realised it was not only Hakyeon's quarters that he was sleeping in, but that it was also Hakyeon's bed. 

"It seemed foolish to move you," Hakyeon had said when Taekwoon had noted this. "And...I have a new residence now." The emperor's residence.

But even without the medicine to dull the pain, Taekwoon's body knew it needed the rest regardless of Taekwoon's will, and it was not long before Taekwoon drifted again to sleep. And so it was that the hours passed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For all that chaos had reigned not so many days ago, the palace was a peaceful one. Quieter, perhaps, for what had happened. The moon was low and barely risen, but the night was still early and lights burned everywhere in windows. There was little sound from beyond the windows, which may have been why Taekwoon was tugged gently from sleep. He'd slept so much during the day, even as he'd tried to stay awake, that it was hard to stay asleep for long.

Between the soups and medicines and rest, Taekwoon seemed to be stronger every time he awoke. He could sit up without help now, and he did so, although it was not without a wince of pain he did not bother to hide in the darkness, and certainly not without effort. There were no lamps on in his—Hakyeon's—room, which only drew Taekwoon further towards the light. He could hear the soft murmur of voices. Perhaps Hakyeon was speaking to Jaehwan, as Taekwoon had been asleep. It didn't quite sound like Hakyeon though, or any voice that Taekwoon knew.

His bare feet made no sound as he made his way down the short hall—he pulled up short at what he saw. Taekwoon hadn't meant to make a sound, but he must have taken too loud a breath, as he stared at Jaehwan's back, his clothes slid halfway down to his waist, at the flower tattooed like a painting over his shoulder blade. 

"Well this is awkward," and this was the voice that Taekwoon did not know.

Jaehwan snatched at his clothes, tugging it back up, almost jumping off of the other man's lap. His face was faintly pink in the orange light, his hair slightly ruffled, and the slick wetness of Jaehwan's lips belied what it was that Taekwoon had walked in on.

"I'll…" Taekwoon made a half-hearted gesture back towards the room, and he would have walked faster could he have. As it were, his pace was painfully slow, and gave him ample time to feel his own face flush. 

He sat down on the bed, and briefly thought of lying down and feigning sleep for all the good that would do. There was the sound of the door opening and then closing, and Taekwoon knew that the other man must have left.

"Next time," Jaehwan said shortly, "you can knock."

Taekwoon looked up at him a little wide-eyed, not least because there had been no door closed to speak of. "You're…" he said instead, a little hesitant to say it.

"A concubine? Yes. And before that I was a doctor's son. Will there be a problem?" Jaehwan said. He drew himself up almost proudly, his eyes defiant as he stared down at Taekwoon. "The Emperor knows, if that's what you're worried about."

Taekwoon shook his head mutely. _I was surprised_ , he thought to say, but he supposed that his face said it all right now, as much as he tried to hide it. He also thought to say: _is that why you're so young_ as well as _you're old, for a concubine_ , because from the glimpse of Jaehwan's lord that Taekwoon had caught, he had not looked very old himself, not much older than Taekwoon and Hakyeon at best.

The door opened again, and both Taekwoon and Jaehwan turned to look towards it—it was Hakyeon this time, and his eyebrows arched slightly as he took them both in.

"My Lord," Jaehwan said, immediately bowing.

"Stay," Hakyeon said to Taekwoon, even as he nodded acknowledgement to Jaehwan. Taekwoon, meekly, sat back down.

"My Lord," Taekwoon still said, but without the bow. 

Hakyeon almost seemed to sigh, although the corners of his mouth did tighten. But his expression soon softened, particularly as he turned towards Jaehwan.

"I saw Lord Sanghyuk," Hakyeon said to Jaehwan, and from the small hitches of surprise from both of them, Hakyeon quickly surmised that he had been correct, that Sanghyuk had just left these rooms not long ago. A flash of something that might have been called guilt passed over Jaehwan's features, but Hakyeon's smile and tone was nothing but gentle, albeit a little teasing. Not quite fitting for an emperor, but Hakyeon hadn't been one for so very long. And Jaehwan had seen him in states far less befitting.

"It seems like your lord would rather not be forced to entertain himself without you," Hakyeon said. A thought seemed to come over him, his brows creasing for just a moment before the smile returned. "Go back with him. Come in the morning, check in with Taekwoon twice a day but no more. Someone will fetch you if something seems wrong. Do you understand?"

Jaehwan's mouth had been open to protest, but now it snapped shut as he bowed. "Yes, my Lord," he said. He didn't wait for Hakyeon to speak again before he took his leave.

Only when the door had closed for some time, and it was clear that they were alone, did Hakyeon sink down to sit next to Taekwoon on the bed with a sigh.

"How did I do, did I sound like an emperor?" Hakyeon asked.

Taekwoon laughed softly. He didn't resist as Hakyeon drew him closer, until Taekwoon was leaning against Hakyeon. It took him several moments for the word _emperor_ to click through Taekwoon's mind, and it was how formally Hakyeon was dressed that truly did it, that reminded Taekwoon he was leaning against an emperor. But Taekwoon couldn't quite bring himself to draw away, and he quickly relaxed against Hakyeon again, letting Hakyeon smooth his thumb against the back of Taekwoon's hand.

"Jaehwan is skilled, even if he isn't a true doctor," Hakyeon finally said.

"He's young," Taekwoon said.

"I've offered to pay for his training to become one, but it seems like Sanghyuk is quite taken with him—and Jaehwan is, likewise."

"Yes," Taekwoon said drily. "It seems so."

Hakyeon laughed at that, drew an arm around Taekwoon to pull him just a little closer, mindful of his injuries. It had startled Taekwoon to realise how many there had been—it had startled him even further to find that they had all but healed, leaving red welts of scars behind in place of raw wounds. He had lingered barely on the edge of the world of the living for far too long. 

"How are you feeling?" Hakyeon asked.

"Well," Taekwoon said. "You don't need to worry."

"You did nearly die," Hakyeon said. There was a pause, here, and for the first time since Taekwoon had woken, Hakyeon spoke the words that had been in both their hearts aloud. "I thought you had died."

There were no words that Taekwoon could speak in answer to that. He could only lean against Hakyeon a little more, revel in his warmth. Turn his hand so his palm was upwards, catch Hakyeon's hand in his, give it a light squeeze. They had both thought that Taekwoon had died, but he had not, and he was very much alive.

"Heaven brought you Jaehwan," Hakyeon said softly. He murmured this into Taekwoon's hair, and the tenderness there screamed a wrongness in Taekwoon, but he shoved it away and cherished it instead.

"I owe him a debt," Taekwoon said.

"We both owe him a greater debt than we can ever pay," Hakyeon said.

It did not seem right, for an emperor to care so much for a single person, when that single person held no power in the greater scheme of things. For Hakyeon to be in debt to someone for Taekwoon's sake—it did not seem right. But again, Taekwoon shoved it away, held Hakyeon's hand even tighter. There was little he could do or say to change Hakyeon's mind, nor could he change the past—nor did Taekwoon wish to change the past. He could not bear to think of leaving Hakyeon to carry this burden alone, even as he had been ready to—but it had been the only way he had had at that moment to allow Hakyeon to go on at all.

Such thoughts did not seem right for such a night, and these too did Taekwoon push away. He knew he should tell Hakyeon to leave, to return, to rest, but Taekwoon wanted to be selfish, wanted to ask Hakyeon to stay. Taekwoon had always been a selfish person.

But if Taekwoon was selfish, then Hakyeon was as well. He wanted more than anything than to remain here, cloistered in these walls, a brief moment of reprieve from the world that had come crashing down on him unawares.

There was no sound but for the sound of their breaths, and the occasional sound from the burning lamp, quiet and all but unheard. It was an odd silence, without a single footstep from even outside. Perhaps there were the calls of night birds from the gardens, but they could not be heard from here, and any birds perched on trees nearby were asleep with the sun. The moon was unlikely to rise much further today, and so it was dark as well as quiet, beyond these walls, as if the world outside had truly melted away.

Hakyeon would have sighed, but he swallowed it, merely let himself feel the rhythm of Taekwoon's breaths instead. Steady, calm, and so very present. So very alive.

Time flowed with no man to call master, and would do so until the end of time itself. It neither slowed nor quickened—time itself had no hand in man's perception. Time was constant in its presence, and none could escape it, and none could grasp it and will it to linger, just a few moments longer.

It was Hakyeon who stirred in time, who gently had Taekwoon straighten, half asleep as Taekwoon had already been.

"Go back to sleep," Hakyeon said, as Taekwoon blinked with sleep-dulled eyes.

"You'll go?" Taekwoon asked. His words were half mumbled, but he followed Hakyeon's soft push for him to lie back on the bed, did not resist Hakyeon pulling the blankets back over Taekwoon.

"Only for now," Hakyeon reassured him. He looked down at Taekwoon as he straightened, and was almost taken aback at how very childlike Taekwoon was at this moment, vulnerable and almost helpless, with seemingly nothing to cling to but Hakyeon. The thought brought with it both a strange joy mired deep in guilt, and guilt wrapped heavily in regret. Taekwoon blinked slowly, all the signs of sleep tugging again at his consciousness.

"You'll come back?" Taekwoon mumbled, and his eyes had already shut, and Hakyeon could not say how much of Taekwoon's words were truly conscious, and how much of them were already from a dream.

"Of course," Hakyeon said. _Just as you said you would come back for me._

 

 

 

 

 

 

" _Damn!_ "

"I told you, this was stupid."

Taekwoon glared up at Jaehwan, even as his breaths came heavily, and pain pierced through his body like a thousand swords. His body was heavier than lead and it was despite himself that he'd sank to the ground, his legs trembling and no longer able to hold him up, his arms too weak to cling to the wall. It was all that they could do to hold him upright so he did not slump on the floor entirely, as he tried to quiet his harsh breaths. He regretted the outburst even before it had left his mouth, but there was little he could do to take it back.

He looked up at Jaehwan, seated by the table as he sipped at tea. He was dressed in fine silks, a gold ornament in his hair, so unlike how Taekwoon had first seen him, although he was still as insufferable, if not more so. Hakyeon had told him to check in with Taekwoon not more than twice a day, but that had been a week ago and Jaehwan apparently had little more to amuse himself with than to impose himself on Taekwoon's company. Nor was there much Taekwoon could do but to suffer it, because he couldn't chase him out, physically, or with a clear conscience.

So here Jaehwan was, seated at Taekwoon's table, watching as Taekwoon attempted to walk the length of his chambers without support. It had not been going well.

"You cannot rush your body," Jaehwan said, wisely, in imitation of an old man far more qualified than himself. Taekwoon had to stop himself from snarling at him.

It wasn't so much the wound—any of them, although he'd gotten an earful from both Jaehwan and Hakyeon when he'd managed to reopen it, just a little. It was that his body didn't have the _strength_. He could stay awake for stretches of a time now, hours of sitting by the window before sleep took hold of him almost as a compulsion. He could feed himself and wash himself and dress himself—and that had been a relief, when he'd finally been able to. He could read, at times, although he would tire after only a few pages, and have to place the book down and shut his eyes.

But moving, _walking_ for any distance, still seemed so far out of his grasp.

It took him a good minute to catch his breath before he could stand. He could feel Jaehwan's eyes follow him as he made his slow way back to the chair set by the window, gripping at wall and table for support. 

Perhaps Jaehwan was right, but Taekwoon had always been stubborn, and no one could fault him for at least trying.

It was late afternoon, and so neither of them expected the door to open without warning. Only one person would enter without first knocking, and Taekwoon and Jaehwan both shared a look before Jaehwan hastily stood.

"My lord," Jaehwan said, bowing immediately.

Taekwoon, obediently, stayed seated, even before Hakyeon would snap at him to. "My lord," Taekwoon said nonetheless, and Hakyeon's cheek tightened slightly as he looked at Taekwoon.

"You shouldn't be here," Taekwoon said flatly.

"And why is that?" Hakyeon motioned at Jaehwan to sit back down, although Hakyeon himself remained standing. Jaehwan, caught between the two, stepped back out of sight instead.

"You have things to do," Taekwoon said, as if it should be obvious. His glance flickered towards Jaehwan, and Jaehwan might've jumped a little, so sharp Taekwoon's look was—it frightened him a little more that it was no doubt the look that Taekwoon was directing towards the Emperor.

Hakyeon held Taekwoon's gaze easily, for as sharp as it could be to a stranger, it was familiar as it could be to Hakyeon. If anything, Hakyeon found it amusing, adorable in some ways, because it was a glare that had changed little since childhood.

"I'll take my leave," Jaehwan said from behind Hakyeon. He had no wish to be caught in a lover's quarrel—in the metaphorical sense. They could certainly argue like a pair at times. But first: "my lord, you might wish to tell him that _rest is important_." Jaehwan had long since dropped any sort of honourifics when it came to Taekwoon and was consistently bordering on rude, but Hakyeon seemed to derive slight amusement from it and Taekwoon could do nothing but seethe in annoyance over something he barely cared about. Regardless, Jaehwan quickly bowed again and departed, before Taekwoon could uncharacteristically yell at him for it. If there was one thing Jaehwan had learned over this past week or so, it was that Taekwoon wasn't the yelling type.

"Rest is important?" Hakyeon arched an eyebrow as he sat down on the bed, once Jaehwan had left. "What were you doing now?"

Taekwoon set his jaw, looking steadfastly away from Hakyeon.

"Taekwoon."

From the way this window was set, there was nothing to see, and its only purpose was to let in light. Taekwoon stared outside anyway.

"Taekwoon." 

"I don't like it," Taekwoon finally said. "In here."

Hakyeon stood, the smooth sound of silk betraying his movement as he came towards Taekwoon. Taekwoon did not look towards him, even when Hakyeon's hand came to rest on Taekwoon's arm. He'd taken to wearing his earrings again, and they glinted silver in the afternoon sunlight, although Hakyeon did not dare to brush his fingers against them, as much as he would've liked to.

There was little he could say to comfort Taekwoon. Taekwoon had always been active, as a child and as a youth, and Hakyeon could only imagine what it was like for him to be cooped up like this, with only Jaehwan and the serving girls and Hakyeon's occasional presence to serve as any change—although Hakyeon suspected that the lack of companionship was not something which grated for Taekwoon. But Taekwoon would not want to show weakness, would not want to venture outside—and even if he did, where would he go? What was there in distance of how far he could walk? There was little Hakyeon could say, and all he could do was squeeze a little tighter at Taekwoon's arm.

But still: "just as surely will the sun rise and the dawn come," Hakyeon said softly. This brought a small hitch of movement, although Taekwoon still did not turn towards him.

"I could say the same to you," Taekwoon said. His words were still directed outwards, but there was no need to speak them to Hakyeon, when Hakyeon would surely know. Nor did he think he could meet Hakyeon's eyes at this very moment. 

Hakyeon let out a deep breath. He let his weight lean against Taekwoon, still careful. Let his arm come about Taekwoon, draw Taekwoon just a little towards him. The window was open but there was no one to see, and Hakyeon allowed himself this small selfish space before he drew away.

"You are right," Hakyeon said, his words measured and soft. "No matter how dark the night, the sun will still rise."

"Whether fire or stars paints the sky at night, the monkey on the mountain still calls with loss," Taekwoon murmured. An image of the moon from that night passed through his mind—he could not recall if he had seen the moon, since. Fire had painted that night, and for Hakyeon, the night yet lasted, and dawn was still hidden behind thick clouds.

"I wanted to see you awake," Hakyeon said.

"You could wake me up," Taekwoon said. Hakyeon laughed softly at that, a little fond. He sat back on the bed, traced out Taekwoon's profile with his eyes, shadowed against the afternoon sun.

"Rest is important," Hakyeon said, a mimicry of Jaehwan. Taekwoon snorted.

"I'd rather see you," he said plainly. He'd turned to Hakyeon as he said this, and just as quickly turned away, mouth clamping shut. Even now, it seemed odd to say such things.

But then: "come tonight," Taekwoon said, and the words seemed to be coming from somewhere else—as if a wish tugged out by Hakyeon himself, although Taekwoon could not have known such things. "I'll sleep now. Wake me when you come."

His words hung in the air for long moments, and it was long moments later that Taekwoon turned to meet Hakyeon's eyes. They were shining faintly, and Hakyeon quickly blinked several times, smiled. 

"If you so command," Hakyeon said, as if the playful tone could hide the sound of his heart beating so loud in this space with only the two of them. "But only if you rest now."

Hakyeon stood and gestured towards the bed, and Taekwoon met his eyes with a slight smile as he moved towards it. He was weary—his brief attempts of freedom had only dragged down exhaustion. He waited for Hakyeon to leave, but he did no such thing, and with an exasperated exhale, Taekwoon climbed back into bed and lay down, the motion slow and still drawing out a long ache of pain.

Hakyeon's smile was strangely wistful as he looked down at him. "I'll come tonight."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taekwoon was alone when Hakyeon slipped into his room. He stood there for several minutes as he watched Taekwoon sleep, although without any light, there was little to discern but Taekwoon's still form and the rise and fall of his chest. He was lying part on his side—the side that had not been stabbed through. It seemed like a dream, that image, but the image of the sword pierced through Taekwoon's body was one that would haunt Hakyeon for all the years he would live. It would have done even more, had Taekwoon not been now lying here like this in sleep, his fingers grasping loosely at the blankets, his hair a little long and falling over his eyes.

He woke him in time, as Taekwoon had told him to.

"Taekwoon," Hakyeon said softly as he sat down next to him, shook his shoulder.

That was all it took for Taekwoon to turn to look up at Hakyeon, light reflecting in his eyes as he slowly blinked. He began to sit up but Hakyeon shook his head, his hand on Taekwoon's shoulder pressing gently down. Instead, he removed his shoes and lay down next to Taekwoon, in the small space between Taekwoon and the edge of the bed.

Hakyeon had returned to his own chambers and changed, wearing something so simple and plain he could have walked out into the city, and none being the wiser had they not known what the newly crowned emperor looked like. He'd slipped away, and it was now deep night that he came to Taekwoon, for his own work had kept him awake this far into the night. But he had told Taekwoon he would come, and so he did.

Sleep tugged at Taekwoon, even though he'd woken at Hakyeon's voice, at his touch. He shifted a little further to give Hakyeon more space, until they were both lying comfortably on the bed. There was a space between them, barely a hand's width apart, yet it was as uncrossable as a river of stars. Hakyeon had pushed him back down, but Taekwoon's limbs still felt numb with sleep, and he did not know if he would have been able to truly sit up, regardless.

"How are things at the court?" Taekwoon finally asked. A small smile played at the corner of Hakyeon's lips, but it was one that did not reach his eyes. It was a question that Taekwoon had not asked throughout these days, for they both knew that Hakyeon had no wish to speak of them—Hakyeon wondered why he had finally asked now. 

"I will need to know eventually," Taekwoon said, when Hakyeon asked as much. But there was, as there always was, more. It had been a few days ago when he'd spoken to one of the serving girls—he did not know them, had wondered where Yoojin was. She had deflected, bowed, deferred, and when he had pressed, she had finally said that 'the Lord Emperor asked me to say nothing', and then had promptly covered her mouth, seemingly terrified she had said something wrong. Taekwoon had probably done a poor job of reassuring her she hadn't. 

Hakyeon only sighed.

"I should have known you'd ask eventually," he said quietly. "I suppose it has more to do with you."

"Me?"

It was a shaky laugh, if it could be called one at all, carried by a deep exhale. "Yes, you," Hakyeon said. It was too dark to properly see Taekwoon's expression, could only hear the concern under the surprise in Taekwoon's voice. 

"Don't protect me," Taekwoon said to the ceiling. "Whatever you're hiding."

_And how do you know I'm hiding anything_ , Hakyeon might have said, but it would have been silly and even if Hakyeon did not tell him now, Taekwoon would find out eventually, once he'd finally set foot outside.

"They all thought you had died at first," Hakyeon said softly. "I don't know how, or who—it wasn't until it seemed like you might live that people...well."

The space between Hakyeon's words was as telling as any, and Taekwoon could do little but wait. Something akin to fear might have fettered its way into his heart at that moment, for how concerned, how difficult, Hakyeon seemed to be finding the words to follow that space. Hakyeon was good at finding words.

"You left the fight too early—perhaps my brothers might have been able to be saved."

_They are right_ , Taekwoon almost said, but for how much he knew that they were wrong. It was not a thing he wanted to admit, and it was not a thing that Hakyeon wanted to consider, but truth or untruth, it was one that could only have been decided by the past.

"They don't know the extent of your injuries. No one but I, Jaehwan, and the girls know where you are. At least, no one has been told, although I suspect there are some who wonder where I had gone when I came here, but no one's been fool enough to say it to my face. Yet. For all they know, you've been sent far away to convalesce."

Hakyeon sighed then, truly sighed. He had not wished to tell Taekwoon any of this. He had not wished for any of this to have happened.

"They're using me to undermine you," Taekwoon said quietly. "To implicate you in the plot."

For all that Taekwoon detested politics, he had not grown up surrounded by them—had not grown up reading of them—to not understand some of its workings. At least ones as blatant as this. His chest seemed to crumple in on itself with this knowledge and his eyes shut without his control, as if to do so could shield him from this frustration which came from within. 

"What do they want from you?" Taekwoon asked the silence.

The silence continued to reign, but Taekwoon was no stranger to silence, and the answer Hakyeon had to give was again one that Taekwoon would learn eventually—and better now and like this, for it was: "to condemn you."

A small jerk from Taekwoon, and then a breath of resignation.

"But I won't. I _won't_ , I won't lose everyone dear to me." Hakyeon bit these words out, and how he wished to reach across that river and to hold Taekwoon to him, but to do so would almost seem to be an admission of the accusations that Hakyeon was holding Taekwoon in far too high a regard. It was foolish, these accusations, but he knew why, and Taekwoon was right, that they were trying to undermine him, young and shaky as his rule was.

"Hakyeon," Taekwoon said, and the name fell into a space that seemed to be waiting for it, and Hakyeon barely had time to catch that one word, to bury it in his bones, before Taekwoon shook his head, swallowed, replacing it with a hurried "my lord."

"No," Hakyeon said. "At least when we are alone. I can't lose you too. You're all that I have left," and it was a truth and an untruth, but in this space and moment, the truth far outweighed the untruth and it nearly crushed Taekwoon with its weight.

He too, wished he could reach across that river and hold Hakyeon to him as he'd once been able to, but something far less concrete than Hakyeon's reasons held him back. It was a name he so dearly wished to speak, and a name that he could not bring himself to speak. 

"I can't lose everyone dear to me," Hakyeon said, and the words were clearly choked this time, too clearly swallowed, and he blinked up at the ceiling, not daring to bring his hand up to his eyes for fear of how clear it would make his tears.

"You have sisters who still live," Taekwoon reminded him gently. How he wanted to tell Hakyeon that it was alright to cry, that he didn't need to hold back the tears of all that he had lost. And he had lost so much, he had lost more than any one person should bear. More than one child had been orphaned that night, even if Hakyeon was no longer a child. Orphaned, and now brotherless, and with the weight of a country on his shoulders and a court to reassemble that wished in part to tear him apart. It was unfair, it was all so unfair, but it was what heaven had deemed and what blood had brought and it was what had been exchanged for the incredible power that Hakyeon now held. Power that he would have given up in a heartbeat if it meant he could have even a fraction of what he had lost returned.

Taekwoon had never been good with words. The space was as wide as a river of stars, and it was all that Taekwoon could do to brush his hand against Hakyeon's— _at least here, you can cry_.

Whether or not it was from that touch that Hakyeon understood, or because something within him had finally broke, was never a matter of consideration.

Taekwoon let his hand linger, no longer quite touching, and yet still so near, as Hakyeon's tears slowly subsided, as his breathing slowly evened, until it was with a small, choked laugh that he rubbed at his eyes, wiped at his face. He would need to wash before he left here.

"I can't allow the court to be so divided," Hakyeon said. His voice was still shaky, but tears would lead to nothing, and this, at least, was a sort of world apart. "There are still so many people who we must replace and everyone is vying for their allies to gain positions—they care little for another's loss if there is something to gain. I worry that our enemies will take this chance to strike, as disorganised and scattered as we are. And I too must play this game."

As he spoke, his breath evened, and Taekwoon let him speak, let him detail these things that had so taken over Hakyeon's life, every moment of his being. However much Hakyeon said he did not wish to speak of such things, Hakyeon also had a need to speak of such things—to speak of them honestly and freely. There was little Taekwoon could offer in return, no advice, no suggestions, but this space was more than enough—if only Taekwoon could know that.

Taekwoon wished he could offer more.

"This isn't what you had in mind when you asked me to come, is it?" Hakyeon asked, after trailing off.

"I had nothing in mind," Taekwoon said. He'd drawn his hand back as Hakyeon had spoken, now tucked it to his own chest.

"So much has changed in so little time," Hakyeon said. "Sometimes I wake up thinking none of this is real." _Wishing none of this is real_ were the words that went unsaid, yet still heard by them both. 

But perhaps this had been what Taekwoon had had in mind. They had not truly spoken since the day that Taekwoon had awoke, had only spoken about the most superficial of things, about whether or not Taekwoon hurt, about a book Hakyeon might bring for him, about how he missed playing music but couldn't quite summon the strength to for any length of time. They had spoken of Taekwoon, for as much as Hakyeon was used to speaking of himself, there had been too much danger in speaking of Hakyeon himself. Nor had Taekwoon ever been one to drive forth the conversation—where Hakyeon willed the conversation to go, it went. Some things did not change.

It was not so long ago that the two of them had shared a bed in a very different way. When Taekwoon had pulled Hakyeon into a kiss, when Taekwoon had undressed Hakyeon, and when the two of them had been as close as two people could ever be, on this very bed. It was not so long ago when this space between them would have been as insubstantial as a swallow's breath, when neither would have hesitated to draw the other close in comfort—to give comfort, to claim comfort. There were no lights in this room of theirs, had any passed by the window, they would have been hard pressed to see. But it was not the eyes of the world that kept them from reaching across that river. Not at this moment.

"Things will change," Taekwoon said, voice brushing aside the silence that had draped over them like a veil of moonlight. Hakyeon turned to look at him then, his face still tear-stained, eyes nearly dry. Taekwoon did not. "You will rule this country well, and I _will_ get stronger. You…" Taekwoon paused, drew a breath. "I said something to you, that day by the lake. I still swear by it, Hakyeon, I always will."

Taekwoon had said many things that day by the lake, and how like a dream that day seemed now. Hakyeon had carved those things into his very being, and now, he drew them all to the surface, as if in answer to Taekwoon's speaking of his name.

"Thank you," Hakyeon said, for there was little else to say. That in itself seemed trite and needless, but there was some urge to fill in the space after Taekwoon's words, as if they could not be left unfettered in the room. Taekwoon had yet to look at him, and Hakyeon could only trace out the indistinct edges of shadows, the barest outline of Taekwoon's profile. It didn't matter—it was a profile he had long since memorised, and could see even in the darkest of nights.

More might have been said that night, had sleep not tugged relentlessly at Hakyeon, insidiously, drawing him deep beneath the dark surface of a mirror-like lake, no moon to disturb what stars could be seen. It would be long after Hakyeon had fallen to slumber before Taekwoon would finally turn to face him, and take in the image of his emperor: tired lines about his eyes, cheeks stained with dried tears, quiet and vulnerable and still so young. It struck him then that Taekwoon had never seen him like this—it was the thought that would chase after him as he too fell into sleep. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hakyeon saw him first through the moon window, as if a painting. There were clouds in the sky but the day was still bright, and it almost seemed as if Taekwoon were in slumber from the way he leant against the pillar. His earrings glinted in the morning light, and his hair fell softly over his closed eyes. From across the stream, Hakyeon could not see clearly the minute details of Taekwoon's expression, but it was enough to know it was one at peace. He was dressed today in a light blue, and on his lap he held his flute.

His eyes opened as Hakyeon's steps rounded the wall, crossed the small stream.

"You're going to say that 'you are resting', aren't you?" Hakyeon asked before Taekwoon could even open his mouth.

Taekwoon pursed his lips unthinkingly, a small shake of the head as he straightened on the bench. Hakyeon laughed softly as he joined him. 

"Just because things have been sorted out in court doesn't mean you should just wander about as you please," Hakyeon said. Taekwoon resisted the urge to scoff.

"I've healed well," he said instead. 

"This is still rather far," Hakyeon said.

Taekwoon's lips twitched at that, and Hakyeon noted at that moment the exhaustion clear on Taekwoon's face and surmised that yes, this had been rather far. Hakyeon sighed. "You are a stubborn fool."

"I've healed well," Taekwoon said instead. As if to prove it, he stood, and he was only a little shaky. He looked at Hakyeon, still seated. "I want to walk."

Hakyeon blew out a long breath but stood as well, coming to stand by Taekwoon's side. He looped an arm about Taekwoon's, Taekwoon leaning against him naturally, as he had been doing so for the past month, meandering late night walks through the palace when there were few others about. Things had settled, and in the end, it had been Taekwoon's father who had finally lost his temper and berated the dissenting ministers. He was, after all, now first in line to the throne and held a certain amount of power. That realisation had been a shock to Taekwoon. His father had come to see him shortly after that, and he too seemed older than Taekwoon remembered, although Taekwoon had rarely ever seen him. Taekwoon had not realised that he'd cared much for his son at all—the matters of the country had always been the most important. A lesson that Taekwoon too had carried in his heart.

It was clear now that Taekwoon would not be leaving.

Their footsteps briefly brushed aside silence as they walked down the meandering hall, the small lake visible through the latticed windows. It had been a difficult decision to make, but before that decision could be carried through, the heavens had deemed the choice a worthless one. Perhaps Taekwoon had always been meant to stay. Come afternoon, the summer sun would shine hot across this garden, but at this moment as they paused by a window, the day was yet still cool.

" _At night there was the sound of wind and rain, how many petals have fallen and scattered_ ," Hakyeon said, as he looked out over the water. There were not so many, for the peach blossoms had begun to bear fruit instead of flowers, but still they painted a lovely picture.

"Did you sleep well past dawn?" Taekwoon asked, teasing. Hakyeon scoffed, and looked like he would have hit Taekwoon had Taekwoon not been likely to topple over if he had.

"I have been quite busy, I'll have you know," Hakyeon said. 

Taekwoon laughed at that and turned just enough for Hakyeon to begin walking again, steps slow and measured.

"Things always seem better in the morning," Hakyeon said as they walked. "It makes the night that has passed seem not so dark."

A small hum of assent, as the hall opened into a pavilion. A screen of bamboo shielded one window, while a bridge angled away from the door. They sat here, Taekwoon almost gratefully. Hakyeon mourned the loss of Taekwoon's warmth against him but hid it well and away.

A couplet seemed to be forming on Taekwoon's tongue, but he shook it away as he leaned back. Light filtered in through the bamboo, and Taekwoon wondered what one would see had the bamboo been shorn away. The crag of rock ringed by water could be barely seen, suggested only in shadow. 

"It doesn't change how dark the night was," Taekwoon said.

"And a dark night it has been."

They were not alone in this garden—they had seen someone earlier, posed in thought as he contemplated the scene in front of them. Taekwoon wished to be alone, but there were few places he could go to be so but Hakyeon's old chambers, and only if he sent everyone away.

He stood in time, Hakyeon following half a second later. This time, Taekwoon did not take Hakyeon's arm, and Hakyeon did not force him. They followed the bridge over a small stream to where it faded into a dirt path. Taekwoon had not come so far in this garden in recent days, and he had always preferred the one just outside the other end of the palace. It had not been so far, back then.

Hakyeon led them down the unfamiliar paths, and Taekwoon paused as they passed a small patch of peonies. The fragrance was gentle, but when he bent down to look at them closer, pain shot through his body, his face contorting unwillingly into a grimace.

"It suits you," Hakyeon said, as he plucked one from the stem and held it out for Taekwoon. Taekwoon looked between the bloom and then at Hakyeon, before he took the flower in his hand.

"Just this once," Hakyeon said softly. "As emperor I should be allowed to do such things, occasionally." 

"Flowers don't live long," Taekwoon said. It was a delicate thing, but the petals of this flower had not been blown or battered aside by the rain, even as petals littered the sides of the path. Taekwoon held it in his hand by the stem as they walked, as he again leaned against Hakyeon. 

"I don't know if that makes it better or worse," Hakyeon said. Taekwoon only leaned against Hakyeon a little more heavily.

They had come, slowly, to the farthest end of the garden. There was a small mountain here, and it was with reluctance that Hakyeon allowed Taekwoon to tug him towards it. A pavilion sat at the top of the craggy rocks, and they would be able to see at least over the lake. It was not a tall one, and yet, Taekwoon's breaths were short and shallow when they finally came to the peak. Hakyeon did not chide him, merely held him tighter even when Taekwoon made to let go.

"I'd like to hear you play again, some day," Hakyeon said. He could see Taekwoon's hand tighten about his flute. "But there will be time for that."

It seemed empty now, the garden. At least from where they stood. The silence was strange, with not even the sound of a bird. Ripples decorated the water, fish flashing below the surface in brilliant reds and oranges. Hakyeon had not let go of Taekwoon, and Taekwoon seemed to have resigned himself to it, as his breaths slowly evened.

He pulled away from Hakyeon to sit on the bench. It faced out towards the garden, but seated as he was, there was little of the garden he could see, but for Hakyeon, posed against it as a backdrop. Had Taekwoon been an artist, it would have been captured in wistful strokes of colour, and he would have decorated the edges with peonies. 

As if catching Taekwoon's thoughts, Hakyeon smiled, and came to sit next to Taekwoon.

"One day, let's go to the lake again," Hakyeon said. "Just the two of us."

When Taekwoon looked at Hakyeon, expecting a playful, teasing expression to match his words, he found none, and that itself lodged in his chest, an unspeakable feeling. The sun had already set that last day, by the time they had left. It had been night that they had turned their backs upon, and the lights of the palace to which they had returned. It was so long ago now, if a quarter of a year could be said to be long. 

"I told you then that I would come back," Taekwoon said, the words springing out unbidden. "That isn't quite true."

There was a look of alarm that Hakyeon shot him that Taekwoon quite missed, eyes shut as they were. But if there was anything that Hakyeon might have said, it was swallowed in the smallest motion of Taekwoon's hand, the one that narrowed the space between them, the one that brushed his fingers against his, the peony sitting on top of their hands both. Taekwoon opened his eyes then, and all he saw was the surprise in Hakyeon's eyes, and a small smile that Taekwoon drew out with his own.

"I'll never leave," Taekwoon said, and it was enough for them both that Hakyeon clutched at Taekwoon's fingers, hidden beneath a flower, suspended away from prying eyes.  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _At night there was the sound of wind and rain, how many petals have fallen and scattered_ \- Spring Morning, Meng Haoran   
>  peonies symoblise honor and integrity and balance and wealth etc etc etc

**Author's Note:**

> 1.5 weeks ago: "how long will it take me to bash out 12k of fic". that was the wrong question to ask. this evidently is more 'some vague nebulous ancient china au mixing over a thousand years of history'. thank you for letting me indulge in atrociously cumbersome prose n_n i don't ship hyukken my tlist has ruined me i didn't even care about size difference until lee jaehwan. they're about 21 here, hyuk is aged up a year, ken is aged down a year, and five or so years later neo are happily fucking without any real issues. 
> 
> also here's the [ hyuken porn outtake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220059)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [sweet rose, falling flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220059) by [enbaisant (enpleurs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enpleurs/pseuds/enbaisant)




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